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Jennifer Millikin

Our Finest Hour: The Time Series Book One

Synopsis

Two lives. One hour. A lifetime consequence.
I believe in choice, not fate.
I chose to nurse a broken heart at the kitschy country bar that night.
I chose to let Isaac Cordova buy me a drink.
I chose to spend one hour with a near stranger in an attempt to soothe my pain.
No last names, no details about our lives, just one hour where I was allowed to forget, and then we would never see each other again.
But was it a choice when I ran into him five years later?
I needed help, and he was the only person equipped to give it.
Our instant attraction doesn’t feel like much of a choice either, but it doesn't matter.
Everything has changed.
Now my choices impact other people.
And what will I choose?
Do I keep Isaac out?
Do I dare to let him in?

Author Biography

Jennifer Millikin is a romance and women’s fiction author who enjoys writing about strong female protagonists. She graduated from Arizona State University with a degree in Communication Studies and lives with her husband and two young children in Scottsdale, Arizona. When she isn’t chasing after her little ones she can be found gulping coffee in her office, typing furiously at her keyboard and reenacting scenes. Find Jennifer on jennifermillikin.com and facebook.com/JenniferMillikinwrites.

Author Insight

First-hand knowledge

I write best when I've lived the situation. And, unfortunately, I lived this one. My 4 year old broke her elbow playing soccer. So I used the experience for Claire, and it made the overall scene feel more real. And what happens after they get to the hospital alters the course of the rest of the book.

Book Excerpt

Our Finest Hour: The Time Series Book One

She screams and grabs her left arm with her right hand. Adult hands crowd my vision, my dad's and the coach’s, each automatically reaching out to help. I push their hands aside, my eyes finding the spot Claire has grabbed. Her elbow.

I don’t have to look at her right elbow to know that her left elbow is already bigger than it should be. I meet my dad’s eyes.

“The hospital's just a few blocks away. I’ll go get the car.” He jogs away.

I look back to Claire. She’s quiet now, her cries soft, but that’s going to end as soon as I pick her up. My insides twist, seeing my daughter in such pain and knowing that in order to get her help, I’m going to have to make it worse.

“I’m going to pick you up and take you to the hospital. Mommy loves you so much, and I’m going to make everything better.”

Claire’s gaze is frightened, but wide and trusting.

I’m gentle when I touch her. Gentle when I place one arm under her knees and another under her back. She whimpers the second I shift her. Using her right hand she keeps her left arm locked in place by her side and cries quietly.

With Claire secured to my front, I move through the crowd of concerned parents and children, delivering half-hearted promises to email them when we know the extent of the injury. I nod to the coach as we pass. He gives me a tight smile.